


Motivated Forgetting

by beriallen



Category: Korean Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Growing Old, Memories of the Alhambra (TV) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 10:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18118934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beriallen/pseuds/beriallen
Summary: The one where Park Shin-hye forgets and tries to forget. Perhaps she's getting too old.





	Motivated Forgetting

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know how this happened? Most importantly, I didn't know how this could turn out to be this long? I wanted a "companion" piece to my previous Hyun Bin-focused [story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17702357)* but I didn't know what should be in it, so I was planning a 2000-word something at first-- And then somehow it turned into a character study and turning 30 and being happy (or trying to), and then this happened.
> 
> Includes references to "A Little House in the Forest," the actress Lee Re's story about her and Hyun Bin browsing her and Shin-hye's pictures while on a break as well as the upcoming movie "Call."
> 
>  
> 
> *shameless promotion

“You’ll forget me.” 

It was the night before Shin-hye left for Spain, and instead of helping her pack, Tae-joon had come to her apartment to tease her tirelessly.  

She squinted at him. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”   

As a reply, he threw a pair of socks that she had folded into a ball earlier. It was a weak shot, obviously, and she caught it easily between her palms.  

“I’m your boyfriend!” he exclaimed afterward and laughed heartily. Shin-hye chuckled along, squeezing the socks into one of her packed suitcases.  

But then Tae-joon shrugged. “Then again,” he said, “who am I compared to our great sunbae?” 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a scene in the drama that made her smile every time. It was the part where her character got caught browsing Yoo Jin-woo's photos on her phone. It was funny to her because it used to be her and her friends at college. 

Back then, they would gather at the library once in a while, leafing through the pages of old student-run magazines to look at pictures of their—as Tae-joon put it that night—great sunbaes, Hyun Bin included. Sometimes, in the middle of a class, a bored professor would start telling anecdotes about the alumni instead; most of the girls in her year would squeal at the mention of “Hyun Bin.” 

As an attempt to break the ice, Shin-hye told him about this during one of their first days in Spain. She had heard that he was shy in real life, but she wasn’t sure how much truth in it was until she watched him shuddering from embarrassment. Seeing him that way somehow was a huge relief; at least now she knew for sure he wasn’t an unreachable sunbaenim. More than anything, she knew how to get close to him now.  

She veered onto the one subject she knew he’d enjoy, sparing him from further embarrassment. “But it does help with the acting,” she blurted out. “It helps that I admire you as much as Hee-ju admires Jin-woo.” 

That made him look up at her. “That’s great, you can definitely use that,” he said, and Shin-hye giggled at his earnest tone and the way his eyes glinted with excitement. A sudden burst of laughter had long been a habit of hers and, throughout her life, she had learned that people around her would naturally accept that part of her. 

But this was only one of her first meetings with Hyun Bin. Shin-hye's interruption earlier had thrown him off, and he knitted his brows at her. Still, she thought she glimpsed a half smile forming on one corner of his lips. 

Shin-hye waved a hand. “Anyway, I think it’s great too, because I think that’s where her feelings for him come from.” 

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” he nodded. “And I got a help from you too.” 

This time, it was her who was lost. When her eyes went wide with confusion, he gave a quiet laugh before explaining. “I think you’re quite similar to Hee-ju, so it helps me with my acting too.” He paused for a beat before he continued, “And of course, with the romance.” 

“How do you know—” 

“I’ve heard about you,” he said. “From here and there.” 

“Oh.” 

The spring in Spain could be quite hot, Shin-hye thought. 

 

 

 

 

 

Shin-hye took her staff for a day trip to Barcelona on one weekend, heading straight to Sagrada Familia once they landed in the city. She took endless pictures of the church and sent some of them to her parents. “Let’s go together one day,” she texted them. 

Her mother wrote back, “I hope you’re feeling happy.” 

She let out a sigh at that. Her mother had been worried, more than usual, since Shin-hye's variety show aired. “I thought it would be about trying to survive living in a cabin in a forest. I didn’t know it was going to be about searching for happiness,” she said. “Are you not happy?” 

Shin-hye had given her a short reply, something she had rehearsed multiple times for press conferences. “You just have to watch the show." It was simpler to tell her mother that, instead of the truth. 

This was going to be her last year as a woman in her twenties and at one point, she found out that she never really knew what being happy was exactly. When the realization first hit her, she knew that she had to do what she did best. Her diligence hadn’t betrayed her so far, so that was what she had decided to do: Diligently try to look for happiness.  

She might not be happy yet, but at least she was trying to. 

Everything she had done since was part of her pursuit of happiness: She visited her parents more often, she got herself a boyfriend, she joined the variety show, she braved herself to accept a role in the drama that would pair her up with one of the top actors in the country. 

Never once she thought she’d get to work together, much less stroll around a foreign city at night with  _the_ Hyun Bin. But somehow Granada made this happen. Maybe there was magic in the city, after all. 

When filming ended at midnight or early at dawn, as the crew packed up the equipment, she would walk back to the hotel with him. There were other actors too sometimes, but since she and Hyun Bin shared most scenes together, more often than not, they found themselves just in each other’s—and their staff members’—company.  

"It’s nice,” he told her one time, during one of these nights. “I never get to do this back home.” 

There was quite a distance between them and their stylists and managers who were following behind. Despite the abundance of clothes and makeup cases in their arms, their laughs echoed on the stone buildings that surrounded them. 

“If we’re in Korea,” she said, “someone will take photos of you and you’ll be all over the news in the morning.” 

"Especially when they see us together,” he added, and looked down to smile at his toes. 

“Oh, the scandal!” And then it was their own laughs that reverberated through the streets now. 

That night, she was happy. 

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t until Tae-joon mentioned it over the phone that she remembered she hadn’t told him about her trip to Barcelona. “I had to see the pictures from your mother.” 

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll hang up so I can send some photos to you, then.” 

“Hey!” he yelped, and they both giggled at the same time. He released a loud sigh afterward, sending a crackling sound through his phone’s speaker. “Anyway,” he resumed. “How is he?” 

“Who?” 

"Our great sunbae,” he responded, every syllable dragged and stretched out, for dramatic effect. 

“Really?” she said and rolled her eyes. Still, she told Tae-joon about the little discussions she had had with Hyun Bin during breaks, both on the script and on their complicated occupation. About how much she learned from him, how she found joy in acting because of it.  

He hummed quietly when she finished. “Where did these discussions happen?” he asked, then. 

“Usually his room.” Shin-hye swallowed once and decided to add, “His is like a penthouse with a living room and everything. I mean, you know.” 

After their back and forth conversation, the immediate silence lay heavy on her chest. She pressed her ear to her phone and waited. From the other end, she could hear noises in the background and she imagined Tae-joon in his house, sitting cross-legged on a couch that groaned under him as he shifted his weight. 

“Wow,” he said, after a while. “I’m almost jealous.” 

Shin-hye exhaled at that. She smiled too and chatted with him some more, until there was nothing to talk about anymore. 

“Well,” Tae-joon said near the end of the call. “Have fun!” 

“Thanks,” she replied. “Bye bye.” 

“Just,” he continued, all of a sudden. “Not too much fun.” 

 

 

 

 

 

Some people at her agency would warn her about not wearing makeup, especially on variety shows. “One day it’ll get you in trouble,” they advised. She understood where they were coming from, but she shrugged them off nevertheless. The internet already had too many videos of her bare face, anyway. 

And that was how she met Hyun Bin one breakfast time: Bare-faced, in her pajamas. 

She could still recall the way he furrowed his brows as they crossed paths. “Do you have an early filming?” he asked her out of nowhere. 

“No? I just woke up.” Her fingers reached up to poke at her cheeks. “My face is all swollen up, isn’t it?” 

He blinked. “You’re not even wearing makeup?” 

Shin-hye dropped her hands to her sides, her nails instinctively dug into the fabric of her pajama pants. She took her time, skimming over the dazed expression on his face before answering.  

“No?” she repeated, finally.  

She watched as his eyes rounded a little, his lips parted slightly as if his breath hitched in his throat. “Oh,” he muttered, then, “wow.” 

She was used to men staring at him. And yet, as she came to find out, it was difficult getting used to it this time.  

And Shin-hye thought, maybe this was what they meant when they talked about trouble. 

 

 

 

 

 

Some of the crew suggested that they should all get late-night snacks, if only to make themselves feel at home—which was how some of the adults ended up in Hyun Bin’s hotel room one night. In his kitchen, they all took turns to grill the meat they bought earlier in the day. It wasn’t Korean beef, but at least it was something.  

Shin-hye was on her second beer when she glided toward the dining table and, as if moved by habit, made a lettuce wrap. Someone must be smoking somewhere because the air around the room seemed hazy all of a sudden, or so she liked to believe. She could sense herself practically staggering toward Hyun Bin, giggling as she offered the lettuce wrap in her hand to him. In her defense, he was technically the host and it just seemed right to prepare a wrap for him. Also, she wasn’t entirely sober.  

She held the wrap up and watched as Hyun Bin lowered his head to bite into it. As her fingers gently pushed the food into his mouth, she could feel her thumb brushing against his lower lip. This was the worst part: She probably meant that to happen (had she mentioned that she was a bit drunk?). She pulled her hand away, then, too hastily, and cursed herself under her breath for glancing up to examine his reaction. 

He was already staring at her. 

Park Hoon was suddenly shouting at their direction from a corner in the room, jokingly complaining that she should have made him a wrap first because he was older and accusing her of only caring about looks. 

Shin-hye laughed loudly at that, more from relief than anything else. It provided her a reason to look away as she cried out a comeback that she didn’t even remember. It was her escape route; a perfect distraction that allowed her to turn on her heel, making her way to the fridge to take another can of beer. If someone noticed her flushed cheeks, she could lie and blame the alcohol instead. 

 

 

 

 

 

The truth was, yes, there was flirting. 

Shin-hye was never not playful with her co-stars, especially the actors playing her love interests; vice versa, they were all very friendly with her. Still, she never caught them stealing glances at her, or at least she wasn’t aware of them doing it. But that could only mean that she was aware of Hyun Bin’s glances, and it was a thought that scared her. 

The fact that she couldn’t stop herself from acting more awkward around him after they flew back to Seoul just showed that there wasn’t nothing. They were now home, though, which meant that there were more people around them, more people who knew them. It brought a greater risk, somehow. A threat of being seen. And she could feel that he was holding back. 

But then there was Slovenia and now, Hungary. And it was as if someone had hit the slate and it was all ready-set-action all over. The two of them somehow made an unspoken pact to wait for each other to finish filming so they could go back to the hotel together. It didn’t help that there were less actors and crew members who joined them in Hungary, allowing them more privacy.  

It was during one of her last days in Budapest when Shin-hye decided to grab a backpack and leave. She felt like a runaway, sneaking out of the hotel to go exploring by herself like this; although, in reality, the others were thoroughly informed of her taking a trip around the city.  

This wasn’t her first time doing this, she had gone traveling on her own before. But this was unlike any she had ever experienced before. For one, she was older now. More confused. She hadn’t called home in two days, and she blamed time difference.  

And yet, for some reason, Shin-hye felt okay. The locals didn’t recognize her, and there was something in it that exhilarated her (it reminded her of those night strolls in Granada).  

She took pictures of old buildings with her polaroid camera and returned to the hotel late at night, finding no one to show the pictures to. She changed into her pajamas, then, and went to Hyun Bin’s room—another penthouse-like—because they had agreed to meet for another one of their talks. He was all bright-eyed when he opened the door to let her in, and Shin-hye tried not to wonder if he had been staying awake to wait for her.  

She told him about a role in a movie she was interested in, with him promising to always be ready with advice, should she need any. They were sitting on the carpet at the time, facing each other with their feet tucked under their knees. Shin-hye looked down at her lap and just then remembered that she had the polaroid pictures with her. That night, he was the first person to see those photos, and he listened to her talking about the people she met and the streets she walked on, offering a commentary only when she finished. 

“You look happy,” he noted, correctly, and smiled.  

Shin-hye retreated to her own room not long afterward. Her eyes scanned the walls until she found a clock and she gasped lightly when she found out that it was tomorrow already.  

She threw herself onto the bed and realized she hadn’t phoned her mother—and Tae-joon. But she just yawned and covered herself with the blanket. She was going back home soon, anyway. 

 

 

 

 

 

Lee Re was grinning when she called out to Shin-hye. “Hee-ju Unnie,” she said, because in the set you were supposed to refer to each other as your characters. She took Shin-hye's wrist and started pulling her inside the hospital room where they would be filming the next scene.  

“Let’s practice,” she continued, and let out a stifled giggle.  

Looking back, Shin-hye thought she should have known. But at the time, she willingly let Lee Re drag her into the room, where Hyun Bin was lying on the bed in patient clothing with a phone in his hand. He was clearly waiting for them, as his head was already turned toward the door when they came in.  

Shin-hye followed Lee Re, who pretty much bounced her way toward the side of the bed. “Just start from before you grab the phone, Unnie,” she prompted. 

She cleared her throat, then, and began. “What are you doing?” she said, and yanked the phone from Hyun Bin’s grip.  

“I was looking at something,” he replied, all of a sudden. That one wasn’t in the script, and Shin-hye frowned at him. From behind her, Lee Re was chuckling out loud already. 

Shin-hye peeked down at her own hand, turning her palm upward so she could see the phone screen. An old photo of her stared back at her. She was all dolled up, in a gown; she didn’t even remember when or where it was taken.  

“Oh my God,” Shin-hye cried out. “So pretty!” 

Hyun Bin’s snort quickly changed into a full-on cackle at that. He clutched his stomach too, as if he had actually broken his ribs. He stopped briefly afterward, taking a breath to blurt out, “You make me laugh,” before snickering with Lee Re some more.  

That shouldn’t have made her blush—except it did. 

 

 

 

 

 

Things around the set became weirder as the weather turned colder, at least for her. She got summoned to the director’s office where he waited behind his desk with the writer, who apologized to her for not having her character as part of the story’s future or whatever. Funnily enough, her first reaction was to scoff. “That explains,” she thought. 

She had been avoiding Hyun Bin ever since. She knew it was silly to put the blame on him, to resent him for having something significant to do every time the camera started rolling. She was always the one to look for a silver lining, and she hated herself for what this whole situation had turned her into. She only told Tae-joon bits and pieces; he had his own drama to think of, anyway. Besides, some things were still difficult to explain, especially since she herself was still processing her feelings about what happened.  

And of course she had the flu. Just great. 

She was thankful for the long breaks, though; they allowed her the distance she craved between her and Hyun Bin. He had been busy attending his movie premieres and screenings, touring around the country to promote them. For her part, she had photo shoots and events.  

But then there was his birthday. 

He was away at the time, and she tried not to care about which city or place he was in. But he was still him, and they were them, and she grabbed her phone to send him a congratulatory message.  

His reply came fast, a short “Thank you, Shin-hye-yah” at first, and then, “How are things over there?” 

Shin-hye blinked. “Well, where should I start?” she wrote, but stopped herself before hitting send, because it sounded too angry. But she  _was_ angry. And currently, annoyed, because he should have known.  

So that was what she typed finally. “Well, you know.” 

There was nothing for a while, and Shin-hye was left to mull over her last text. She pictured him being surrounded by people she didn’t recognize, celebrating his birthday with his film’s cast and crew who brought him a cake and asked him to blow out the candles. 

Her phone buzzed, and she quit wondering. “Let’s talk.” The winking dots that appeared underneath let her know that another one was coming in, and she waited patiently for it.  

“Just like in Granada.” 

Shin-hye just inhaled, and put her phone back in her pocket.  

 

 

 

 

 

On the last day of filming, he asked her about her upcoming vacation to U.S. Shin-hye wondered how he knew about it, and then remembered that she was the one who told him, although she couldn’t recall the exact time. When they were alone together filming a scene in a car, maybe. Or when they were exchanging soft whispers under one umbrella, perhaps.  

He sent her a text when she was in Hawaii. “I’m in LA.” She wrote back, “My parents are with me,” as if it was supposed to mean something. 

At their hotel, her father teased her about being an awful golf partner, and the words just slipped out of her: “Hyun Bin Oppa is good at it.” Her mother got excited hearing it, telling her that she should have invited him. 

"He’s nearer than you think, actually,” she wanted to say, but decided against it. 

 

 

 

 

 

It was Shin-hye who texted Hyun Bin first. Something about taking him up on the promise he made in Budapest, to help her out should she need any advice. He told her to visit whenever, that he wasn’t scheduled for anything these days, anyway. When she arrived at his place, he chuckled as a way of greeting, pointing at her short hair. 

“It looks great on you,” he said when he closed the door behind her. 

She was here for her movie. For a part in her script that she just couldn’t get. There were dozens of other people to ask, she was fully aware of that. There was her boyfriend, for one; but he was the better actor, even Tae-joon would admit that. Their great sunbaenim. Besides, he had promised her. 

Between analyzing the script, she had told him that he was the one who made her chop her hair off. His eyes had widened (“Me?”), and she had explained that to see him physically change for a role had inspired her to cut it short, shampoo endorsement be damned! Hyun Bin had laughed at that, jokingly assuring her that he would pay the penalty fee, just in case. 

That night ended the way it began: In the hallway, a conversation about hair. It seemed ridiculous for a talk between them to revolve around something so mundane, but, as Shin-hye realized, this was them. They just— They talked. 

Standing before him in the hallway to bid him goodbye, it just occurred to her that he still looked the same. 

“You still have Jin-woo's hair,” she pointed out, smiling. “You haven’t moved on, have you?” 

A few strands of hair fell and slightly covered his forehead, and her hand reached up to push them away, as if by instinct. This shouldn’t be unusual; after all, she was always the one who took care of everyone. And yet, her breath caught, and her hand dropped, slowly. When Shin-hye thought back of this moment and what would happen next, she would wonder if she had brought it upon herself. 

His eyes rounded. His voice went low when he replied, “And does this mean you have?” He slid closer, too, and his leg was between her shins all of a sudden. He lifted a hand, then, letting it rest on her face. His index finger traced a path along her jaw and paused when it passed her chin. He leaned into her and Shin-hye wondered if he could hear the sound she made when she swallowed.  

His thumb grazed the little cleft in her chin. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” he whispered, and his breath rubbed against her nose. With a gentle flick, he tilted her chin up, angling her face upward so she would look up at him. And Shin-hye thought, as she cast her eyes downward to glance at his lips, maybe she did bring it upon herself. She didn’t see him tipping his head down to kiss her, because her eyes were already closed. 

It shouldn’t have felt so different, this kiss. After all, they had shared kisses before—scripted, rehearsed ones. But this was unplanned and she didn’t know what to do or how long this would last. She could feel his hands as they grasped her waist and she grabbed his arms as a response. Despite herself, she stood on tiptoe to press her mouth harder into his, and he was more than willing, listing his head to better tug at her lower lip. She was suddenly out of breath, opening her mouth to suck in air, and this was how she knew this was totally not scripted: He slipped his tongue between her lips, letting out a muffled groan when it touched hers. Her hold around his arms tightened at that, and she moaned against his lips.  

Hearing that seemed to jolt something in him, making him pull back and break the kiss. He was panting and struggling to speak, and Shin-hye wondered why he stopped and tried to kiss him again. But he gulped, then, and told her, “Break up with him.” 

That was a mistake. Or a divine intervention, depending on how you’d see it.  

“Oh no,” Shin-hye gasped, and stepped away from him.  

Her back bumped against the wall behind her and the space she so abruptly created between them allowed her to see him clearly, and she watched as a shadow flitted across his face and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t,” he hissed between gritted teeth. 

But she already remembered. “I—” she managed and then paused, stumbling over her words. “I have a man.” 

He let out a scoff; it almost sounded like a laugh. “Then what are you doing here?” 

“He’s a friend,” she heard herself whimpering. “I’ll lose a friend.”  

Shin-hye stared at him for a long time, feeling the rise, fall and stillness of her chest as she studied the expressions he wore. She couldn’t call to mind the last time she made someone so angry and sad at the same time. So disappointed at her. 

“Really,” he muttered, and she had to shiver with cold. 

It got too much suddenly, and she dragged her feet across the floor toward the door, slipping them into the shoes she had left near the entrance earlier. Tonight, she wasn’t feeling brave, and she looked down, choosing to address his hands and the way they balled into fists.  

“Thank you,” she mumbled for no reason, and turned around to open the door and leave. He didn’t stop her. 

 

 

 

 

 

“You forget about me.” 

Shin-hye swallowed and laughed dryly into her phone. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Who are you again?” 

Tae-joon's answer, much like this phone call, was long overdue. She could hear him breathing from the other end, heavily, slowly, as if he was handpicking his words. 

When his reply finally came, it was brief. “You tell me.” 

Shin-hye forgot to answer. 

 

End.


End file.
